


A Proposal Traditional

by Arendweller



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: A bit sappy, Elsamaren Summer 2020 (Disney), F/F, Fluff, amirite?, but all the good proposal are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arendweller/pseuds/Arendweller
Summary: If you want what's yours, it reads,follow the string.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40
Collections: Elsamaren Summer 2020





	A Proposal Traditional

**Author's Note:**

> July 17: A Northuldran Proposal

_Finally_ , she thinks.

_Finally, Anna has arrived in Northuldra. She is important for this to succeed._

"So," Anna whispers, seeking her out under the veil of the night, every other soul fast asleep and none the wiser "I'm here for the weekend. Like you wanted. And here—" she holds out her fist, "— I got that thing you asked for."

_Good_. _With everything in place, I can see my plan through tomorrow itself._

_____________________________________

  
  
  


Maren is met with surprise when she enters the reindeer shed.

Surprise in the form of complete emptiness and silence, where there should have been a herd, creating all kinds of ruckus.

Her reindeers are gone, and the barn is bare.

Save for a note.

It's pinned to the door Maren entered through, the reason why she didn't notice it at first.

_If you want what's yours,_ it reads, _follow the string._

It is so thin, at first Maren doesn't understand what the note is referring to.

But it's there.

Where the note was stuck to earlier. Under it — thin and red — a thread spilled long, running out the door and leading Maren behind it.

_Where's Ryder?_ She asks, realising she hadn't seen him since morning.

_Did he know about this? Did he have any idea what was going on?_

She jogs along the trail of the string, wondering where it lead, and what it had to do with anything.

Her questions both increase in number _and_ find something resembling an answer — encircled haphazardly by the yarn — and she stops.

_It's a flower._

It's pink and velvet to Maren's touch, petals shaped like a leaping flame with crimson veins running inside it.

It smells grassy, undertones strongly of herbs, like the kind of ingredient incense sticks would be made of.

_Just a flower._

Maren almost think she's misinterpreting something. Almost believes that it's there by mistake, by default of wind and nature.

Almost.

It wasn't just the yarn that enclosed it in place, it's also the fact that _there's just something about it._

Maren recognizes it, except she doesn't.

In fact, she knows there is no plant or tree around these parts that would bear such a flower. And yet, it's _just so familiar to her_.

_From where do I know this plant?_ Maren asks herself, tucking the question in the back of her head and the flower in her pocket, as she readies herself to continue tracking the mysterious red thread.

It leads her deeper and deeper into the woods. The vegetation grows wilder, thicker and unruly.

It's there she sees it. The small book coiled around in the yarn, golden words embossed across the front.

'Arendelle's Book of Fairytales and Folklores.'

_What was a book from Arendelle's Royal library doing in the middle of Northuldran woods?_

She unwraps the book from the grasp of the string, clutching it close to her chest as she started running again.

Up, over and around the branches as well as down below on the ground, the string kept twining and wreathing Maren through a path of twists and turns.

She would've missed this one, had it not been for the loops of red around it.

A wristband. Etched with the typical markings of Northuldran design, handwoven into colours of scarlet and blue and yellow and silver.

It was reminiscent of another wristband, one that Maren had crafted herself ages ago — which was how she could tell this was a version but not the same one. 

Now thoroughly confused, Maren took a moment or two to understand what's taking place. What situation exactly she was literally letting herself run into.

_My reindeers are gone. I can't find Ryder since breakfast. Or grandmother, or even Elsa for that matter._

_Not only would this be unusual on any other given day, you'd think that with Anna and Kristoff in town for the weekend, the circumstances would be the_ opposite.

_And none of this is to mention that I'm being steered whichever ways to Spirits-only-know-where by this thread that keeps offering me peculiar objects at complete random._

_And there's only one way to get anything to make any sense._

Warily, she puts the wristband around her hand, clutching the book with her free one. 

She understands the value of the wristband, the meaning behind it, and wears it anyways. Somehow, it just feels right.

The dense woods start dwindling, leading out to a rocky clearing riddled with leaves and branches.

And a few stray purple petals, she notices suspiciously.

These grew abundantly on the opposite side of the village. Celebratory flowers seen in weddings, proposals, birthdays and the like. Then what were at least a dozen of these doing strewn across a place they didn't belong?

Something much more interesting catches her eyes then.

Cradled in curling red, a few steps away.

It's the photo of Maren and Elsa that was taken at Anna's coronation.

What's more intriguing is what's encasing it.

The frame, as Maren grazes her thumb over it, is handcrafted wooden, patterns both Northuldran and Arendellian painted on the edges.

_Elsa kept this,_ Maren reminds herself.

Then how did this get here? And where did the frame come from?

She places the picture atop the book, adding one curious item after another to her inventory as she followed the string.

_The end of this thread and this little trek can't be much farther, now._

_Hopefully._

She smells it before she sees it. 

The steaming fish broth, and next to it the chocolate pudding cake.

It waters her mouth, but more importantly, it jogs her memory.

Maren had only learnt how to make the broth a few months ago. And the chocolate pudding…it rang something in the deep recesses of her memory too.

Even more interesting was what they were placed on. And where.

The string bent sharply on the ground, meandering to the edge of the clearing. 

_The view was nice from here,_ Maren thought.

Apart from the location, what intrigued her even more was the tabletop on which the dishes sat and the dish cap over them.

All made of ice.

Now that it all but confirmed Elsa's paticipation in _whatever this was_ , it also made it more convoluted.

_How is my girlfriend involved in all this?_ Maren thinks.

She leaves the food behind, certain she wasn't supposed to carry them — which was a first for today.

Not that it made any clear what exactly they _were supposed to do._

Maybe the next item will hold a better clue. Not that it would be an absolute departure from the tone set so far, Maren can still hope.

The next item, though. She doesn't know what to make of _that._

Her grandmother Yelana is sitting on a wooden stump, string curved about the knuckles of her fingers. 

The expression on her face reminds Maren of when she would come back for lunch late having kept her grandmother waiting.

It wasn't something she looked forward to then, it isn't something she looks forward to now.

"Finally," Yelana says upon spotting Maren. "Look who decided to show up." She gets up from her seat. 

_What is grandmother doing here?_

"I was wondering when you would get here. Almost started to think you wouldn't." 

Coming closer, she gently pat's Maren on the legs softly with her cane.

"You get those knees sharpened, girl. We can't be having our fastest runner in such poor, sloppy, slow shape, now can we?"

That snaps out of her thoughts. Of all the things she's been on the receiving of today, passive-agressive insults from her grandmother weren't what she expected.

"Grandmother, what is going on? What is this string about? Did you have a hand in this? Did you do som—"

“You lovesick idiots,” she comments derisively, as if it weren't accompanied by a fond smile playing on her lips. "You just had to go and be stupid as well. And slow, to _not_ boot."

"What?"

"Nothing child," she says, starting to unwind the cord from her fingers.

Yelana cups Maren's face with both her hands.

"I'm here to give you my blessings." She stretches on her toe tips to kiss Maren's forehead.

"On behalf of everyone in our community, our family; as the village leader, your predecessor and — most importantly — your _very_ proud grandmother, I bless you to find long and happy success in the next phase of your life, my child."

_What?_

Looking addledly at her grandmother through a pair of wide, bewildered eyes, Maren is mute.

"Now run along. She's been waiting long enough." She gestures, and it shows Maren that there is still some string snaking ahead of them.

Yelana stretches her hands and wrists. "I'll be following right after."

Running out of patience and curiousity, Maren starts doing just that. 

It's always wiser to heed to Grandma's words than to not.

The woods give way to twilight, out into an open field drenched in the varying shades of orange and purple.

_So that's where her reindeers went,_ her brain registers first and foremost.

They went behind Elsa, who stood tall on twin snow-riddled boulders.

Behind her were Kristoff and Ryder, opening two different caskets — one with glittering snowy butterflies, the other with ice-dipped sparkling petals.

The resulting effect makes the air catch the light in a twinkling, breathtaking glow. In the haze of shimmer, the rainbow of the petals, Maren is almost blinded. 

Save for the one thing she sees with perfect clarity.

_Elsa_.

"Honeymaren Nattura," she says, and Maren's ears _ring_.

"In the darkness I don't need the sun, because you suffice. In the time I have known you and we have been together, I feel like I have known you my entire life. As if I have waited for you my entire life. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of it doing nothing but loving you. 

"Honeymaren Nattura," she says, voice raw, "will you marry me?"

Maren, speechless, has no idea what to say. No idea how to process it, even.

So she doesn't.

Instead, she gets down on one knee. Placing the objects (— _the objects of_ _affection,_ she realises _—)_ down carefully on the ground.

_( —The flower from the tree in Arendelle's garden that a diplomat had gifted under which Elsa and Maren had confessed to each other —_

_— the book from which Elsa read to Maren before bed whenever they visited Arendelle and Maren would drift blissfully to sleep to Elsa's voice —_

_— the betrothal wristband, a twin to the one Maren had handwoven for Elsa as a sign of courtship and promise per Northuldran customs —_

_— the photo they had taken together on their first date, the frame Elsa must have made herself —_

_— the fish stew that Maren had made for Elsa, the first thing she had learnt to cook; and Elsa's similarly special chocolate pudding —)_

Maren pulls out what she had been carrying for so long in her satchel, and so close to her heart.

A ring, with the Northuldran hexagon and Arendelle's crocus inscribed together in its diamond bauble.

"Elsa, Lady of Arendelle,' she shouts from the top of her lungs. Declaring her love for Elsa deserved no less pompadour.

"I loved you when I didn't know you, and loved you even more from the moment since I had the privilege to. Everything you do is magic to me; the only thing I want is to treat you like the Queen you are for the rest of my life. My heart is yours to beat for, and yours to break. Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and be my wife?"

How long had she been waiting for this day?, Maren asked herself.

How much had she read upon the proposal customs of Arendelle; had asked Anna and Kristoff about it?

How many times had she rehearsed these very lines in her head? Out loud? Worried about mumbling them in her sleep with Elsa next to her?

_Oh god — this entire time — was Elsa doing the same thing too?_

Elsa's hands place over her heart, then flail about as she rushes down the rocks. It worries Maren — this was her future wife, after all. 

_(— my wife, my wife, MY WIFE —)_

But it eclipses the fact that Maren is tripping over her own feet running too — for the first time today knowing _exactly_ where she's headed towards ( _who she's been headed towards her entire life) —_ to meet Elsa halfway.

They meet in the middle with a crushing hug.

" — Yes! Of course — _yes yes yes —_ I'll marry you! _Yes, of course_ — _my love_ — " they both squeal into each other so it's impossible to tell where Maren's response ends and Elsa's begin, and vice versa.

Pulling back — but only slightly — Maren fumbles with her satchel again to bring out another ring, a twin, and Elsa all but snatches it from her hands.

They do it together, one hand on either side held out and the other pushing the ring into their beloved's.

They both laugh — first from the joy, and then when they notice that their fiancée is tearing up too.

_Of course we would_ , Maren thinks.

_It's nothing but a lifetime of togetherness from here on out, isn't it?_

"I can't believe you did all this for me." Maren says, breathless.

( _How could you not?,_ Elsa thinks. _I would move the earth itself for you._

Elsa doesn't tell her, though. She knows she's got all the time in the world now to say _and prove_ it to her wife.

( _—my wife, my wife, MY WIFE_ — ))

"Not only the proposal," Maren says, swiping a tear away from Elsa's face. "But the thread, the gifts? Must have been a beast to tackle, huh?" 

" I suppose you could say that." Elsa caresses a hairstrand away from Maren's eyes. "Worth it, though. I couldn't stand giving you anything but the best."

"Well you did." Maren's laugh comes out watery. "I love you so much. _I love this so much._ You went _out of your way_ to give me a traditional Northuldran proposal.

"And I could say the same for you." 

Elsa takes Maren's hands in hers. 

"Where did you get these rings anyways? They're exquisite." 

"Oh. I had help from Anna."

"Wait. What?" Elsa looks back up from the rings at Maren, startled.

"Yeah. She just gave them to me yesterday night when she arrived from Arendelle. It was all very hush-hush, you know." 

"Anna knew?" Elsa asks.

"Yup." 

"But," Elsa says, confused. Maren can basically see the cogs in her beautiful little head turning. " She helped me out here." Elsa says, pointing behind her back.

A little late, they become aware of their family present around them.

"What can I say," Anna says, barely coherent with her runny, high-pitched voice, " _I love love."_ Saying this, she immediately ducked her tear-stricken face behind Kristoff's sleeve, who was doing the same but with a handkerchief.

"Wait, Ryder?" Maren exclaims. "How are you here? You've known about my plan for weeks now too." 

Ryder, who is practically wailing, hides behind Yelana. ( _When did grandma get here? Wait, is that just sand in her eyes or—)_

Whether it's out of his sobbing or from knowing what kind of consequences will be coming his way, Maren won't have it.

"You've been planning this for weeks?" Elsa whispers softly, like it was the only thing she took away from that.

"Well," Maren would very much like to get angry over a few choice people, but that's not going to happen with _her bride's_ face looking like that — the way it does, now will _it?_

_(HER BRIDE.)_

"Of course, Elsa. I've been thinking about this for months now."

Elsa's smile is so wide and gentle in response to that, Maren wants to propose to her all over again.

"They've been playing us this whole time, huh?"

"Yup. Like the suckers we are." Elsa brushes their noses together. Their foreheads meet, and when Elsa closes her eyes shut, Maren feels her eyelashes on her cheek.

"I love you so much." Elsa brings her hands to Maren's waist. "You have no idea. I can't even put them into words."

"You don't have to." Maren places her hands on Elsa's back, leaning in for a kiss. 

_(Our first kiss as fiancées,_ she thinks.)

"I can feel you in my soul."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Extra Prompt: Frozen fever inspired


End file.
